


Haus Guest

by Temaris



Series: Haus and Home [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Condoms, Double Penetration in One Hole, Haus party, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multi, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M, Unrepentant porn, thoughtless references to being aro, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Temaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty and Kent have more in common with each other than just being blond. Like being in love with someone who really shows no sign of reciprocating. That's pretty awful.</p><p>So. They have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haus Guest

Bitty's scrabbling on the floor for his dropped key as Jack's door opens and everything goes to hell. He crouches, frozen, as Jack disappears behind his slammed bedroom door, and Kent Parson -- who seemed really nice, but apparently is just a miserable blackmailing dick who hates Jack (who could hate Jack? he thinks indignantly, conveniently forgetting the majority of his first year at Samwell.) – yells at him through it before slumping resignedly against it. 

By the time he turns Bitty has finally managed to pick his key up. He swiftly unlocks his door and shuts it behind him with deep relief, carefully avoiding Parson's angry glare.

None of this makes any sense. He tweeted a selfie with Kent less than an hour ago. And now …

He scrubs his hands over his face. Jack looked wrecked. Maybe he should --

There's a tap on the door, and he opens it eagerly, hoping to find Jack, and recoils.

It's Kent. He's standing there, twisting his hand anxiously through his hair. Before Bitty can slam it shut, he's shouldered his way inside and is closing the door.

"I don't know what you think you heard," he starts sharply, eyebrows tightly drawn and stepping in close to loom over Bitty, going for intimidating and hitting defensive. "But you need to keep your fucking mouth shut."

Bitty's jaw drops. "Keep *my* mouth shut?" he says sharply. "Or what? You'll blackmail me too?"

Kent flinches back, like he is genuinely shocked at the accusation. "That's not – that's not what I-- I-- Look, I'm just saying, you can't say anything about this. Not to anyone," Kent tries again, but weakly, like he knows he's already lost any chance of Bitty listening to a damn word he says. "You can't tell anyone that Jack and I--"

"Jack and you?" Bitty's eyebrows go up, and Kent slaps a hand over his mouth. 

"Fuck my life," he says, and drops to the floor, knees bent up, head back against the door. It clicks shut under his weight. "Fuck my fucking life. You didn't know."

Bitty shakes his head, biting his lip. He didn't know. But this -- at least it makes a kind of sense, even if it doesn't particularly make him think any better of Kent.

"So," Bitty says slowly. "You really came here to what? Start something with Jack? Or was it just a quick fuck to get him to sign with the Aces? Both? Just to hurt him as hard as you could?"

"No. No." He thumps his head against the door, eyes closed. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

Bitty hesitates. Jack's face was terrible, but Kent's is bleak and so unhappy. If he knows anything, it's about being in love with someone who just doesn't seem to be wired that way. He and Jack -- they have a lot of sex, but it's never meant anything to Jack, not the way it does to Bitty. He almost hopes that Jack is aro, that it's not personal -- but then there was the look on Jack's face. He did care about Kent. Just -- maybe not as much as Kent.

And that? That he gets. 

"I can't read him for shit," he confesses. He takes a step back and slumps onto his bed. "I'll be there thinking that he's staring and judging and hating and then he'll be all, good game or this pie is fantastic or I love your dick, and I have no fucking clue what's going on in that boy's head. I swear to god I thought he was straight until he sat there watching us all fucking that one night."

Kent's eyes open. "I-- what?" His mouth hangs open unattractively. 

"You know. I mean, the sex is great, it's always good with the boys, but sometimes you'd like it to mean something." He ducks his head, trying not to give away more than he has already -- surely Kent won't --- Kent is laughing. Under his breath, incredulity on his face. Laughing.

"You can leave, if you're just going to be mean," he snaps, and Kent reaches out, flails at him when he's too far to grab Bitty. 

"No! I'm just ---" Kent shook his head hard, like he's trying to shake something out through his ears. "Are you me?"

Their eyes meet, and Bitty looks properly at him. Not the Captain of the Aces. Not the guy who was -- something --- to Jack Zimmermann. At the guy in his bedroom, looking like he's been through an emotional rollercoaster courtesy of Jack. Their mutual crush. Who most likely isn't ever going to fall for either of them.

"Maybe I am," he concedes, offers Kent a half smile.

Kent smiles back at him, and it's warm and friendly. "Fucking Jack Zimmermann," he says. "Amirite?"

Bitty snorts. "I *love* fucking Jack Zimmermann," he confides. "He just--"

"He just loves it, yeah," Kent says wistfully. "And what that boy can do to a guy's prostate would make angels weep."

"I haven't had the pleasure," Bitty says, almost sad. "I should try that one day."

Kent glances at him. "You top?"

Bitty bridles. "What do you mean--"

"No, no, man. Just." He looks up at the ceiling for inspiration, and then turns, looks very directly at Bitty. "Wanna fuck around?"

Bitty's jaw drops.

"No pressure." He smiles, ducks his head a little ruefully. "I won't even ask you to play for the Aces."

"You're an asshole," Bitty says, but more mildly than he expected. He looks thoughtfully at Kent.

"That's not a no," Kent notes. He looks quizzically at Bitty. Who rolls his shoulders. Stands up, and offers Kent a hand up. They're standing practically chest to chest, and Kent puts a hand tentatively on Bitty's waist, and Bitty reaches up, wraps a hand around the back of Kent's neck and pulls him down into a kiss.

They mess up at first, too much teeth, and it feels more like fighting than kissing, and then Kent tilts his head a little, and it feels like everything just slides a half turn into easy heat. They're *kissing*, and Kent's arms are warm and weirdly comforting around him, and he pulls back a little, swallowing, dazed, and Kent blinks at him, and goes for another kiss. This one is even better. Heat coils in his belly, and they're both breathing hard. Kent smells good, mostly clean and some subtle hint of what is probably extremely expensive cologne, and his skin is so soft. He strokes his fingers through Kent's hair, pulls him in hard, and that, that's no joke, because they're both hard -- Bitty hadn't even realised that they were grinding against each other, but he's noticing it now. 

He turns his face a little, nuzzles at Kent's cheek, soft and warm and he bites at the line of his jaw. Kent's knees unlock. For a moment, Bitty's struggling to hold him up, clutching at the back of his shirt. It's a second or two before Kent finds his feet again, and they're both laughing.

"Fuck me, you're good at that, kid," Kent mutters. He drops his face onto Bitty's shoulder, then turns away.

"You have no idea," Bitty says, and nips at the exposed line of neck. Kent shudders, and Bitty takes a step back towards the bed, tugging Kent with him. "Come on, before we both fall over."

Kent smirks, and scoops Bitty up. He staggers a little -- beer and Bitty isn't quite the lightweight that he looks -- and then tumble onto the bed, both of them exploding into giggles. Kent rolls over on top of Bitty, who tugs his shoulders down, and shoves a knee up between Kent's legs at the same time. Kent collapses onto him, and they both grunt. 

"You're heavier than you look," Bitty says critically, and grinds his hips up.

Kent moans, squirming bonelessly into the pressure on his dick. "Clothes. Off. Too many," he says, and then it's a race, the two of them tearing their clothes off, until they are completely naked together on top of the covers of Bitty's bed. Kent pinches at one of Bitty's nipples, "You sensitive there?" he asks, and Bitty shakes his head.

"Not really." But he gets what Kent's implying and ducks his head down to lick the tip of his tongue over one of Kent's nipples and then the other. "Bet you are," he says, and peeks up to find Kent staring at him. He goes back, and flickers his tongue over one and then the other. "Guys like when I do this to their dicks, usually," he says. He presses his lips around Kent's left nipple and delicately closes his teeth. Tugs. 

 

Kent arches with a yell, like a line is hotwired straight from the bolt of pain/heat in his tit to his dick. His dick twitches, and he thinks he even spurted a little, and he reaches down, grips himself firmly.

"Jesus," he manages after a couple of moments to cool down. "God."

"Bitty's fine," Bitty says deadpan, and in his slowest most Georgia drawl.

"You are not wrong," Kent agrees unguardedly. He not entirely sure how he ended up on his back with Bitty between his legs, but he is not objecting. "You got lube?"

Bitty nods and fumbles at the nightstand. He produces condoms and lube, and Kent sighs. "I miss the days I didn't know about UTIs."

Bitty snorts, but his fingers are quick and Kent pulls his knees up, spreading wide until Bitty shakes his head with a grin. "I swear to god, hockey boys have spoiled me for everyone else," he says. It's clearly not a complaint. He squirts lube over Kent's taint; it's cold and Kent whines. "You skate on ice for a living. Man up."

Kent clenches around his finger, and huffs when Bitty twists his finger, pressing backwards and then up, stroking firmly into Kent's prostate. Kent loses it, can't focus enough to do anything except arch his back up into the delicious pressure inside him. He eases back, and Kent takes a couple of deep breaths, then smirks down at Bitty. "Man down."

Bitty groans at the chirp. "If you're coherent, I'm clearly going to have to step things up," he says mildly, and squeezes a second and third finger into Kent's ass in quick succession. Kent makes a choking sound deep in his throat. For a moment he contemplates the joy of a five hour flight with a sore ass, but most of him is just looking forward to squirming in his seat for a couple of days. 

"You think you can?" he challenges. "Cuz, I gotta say, I haven't seen much--" He chokes into silence as Bitty yanks his fingers out, and, eyes narrowed, lines himself up and rams home. Kent curls upwards, comes very close to head butting Bitty, and can't stop making these little cut off cries. 

"Where the fuck were you hiding that," he gasps out, eyes watering and ass burning. "Jeez. Jeez."

"You okay?" Bitty asks him, He looks weirdly hesitant for someone who's lodged balls deep up a Stanley Cup winner's ass. Kent knows his value. "Kent?"

"Gimme a minute," he says. "You really are. Ugh. Damn." He clenches and groans in relief when relaxing eases most of the pain and stretch. "Damn."

Bitty looks as strained as Kent feels, and it occurs to Kent that having his dick rhythmically squeezed while in a vise probably isn't the most fun anyone ever had.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and Bitty blinks at him. Then smiles, slow and sincere.

"Better than," he promises. "You ready?"

"Hit me," he says, and then a second later, "I mean--"

"I know what you meant," Bitty smirks, and rolls his hips, drags out and slams home again, and again. They're both sweating and Kent feels alive, on fire, like he could do this forever -- the strain in his hamstrings is just a delicious edge to the friction in his ass, the gut pleasing sense of being full, and the mind bending pleasure as Bitty strokes out,

He's not gotten to have this in a long time. Screw that. He's not sure he's ever gotten this before. Even his suction based dildos can only go so far, and yeah, he loves working squats on them, but there's nothing like letting someone else just *ruin* his ass, plow him like they are never going to stop. Bitty's scowling with concentration, and Kent can't pretend, he feels like a breath of air would set him off, and Bitty seems to get it, because he glances down at Kent's dick, wraps his hand around him -- and Kent goes off at the first touch.

"It's been a while," he says, after a short, indeterminate amount of time. He stares up at the ceiling. His voice is raspy and his ass is thrumming. "Christ. Christ that was good."

"Good." Bitty sounds strained, and Kent smiles at him. 

"You wanna go for it?" He tucks his hands behind his head, and smirks. 

Bitty pulls out, and Kent can't stop his face from dropping in disappointment. 

"Over," he says, and tugs on Kent's thigh. He rolls, and is stopped halfway. "Like this," Bitty tells him, and tucks himself behind Kent, both on their sides. A second later, his fingers are pushing Kent open, and Bitty's cock sinks in without any effort, like Kent's been permanently worked wide.

"Oh my god," he whimpers. Bitty laughs, like the sadistic little bastard that he is, and grinds. It turns out that this position gives Bitty even more leverage against Kent's prostate. He loses all words, and is pretty sure he's crying by the time he comes a second time, Bitty still fucking his ass.

"How are you still going?" he gasps at one point, and Bitty just laughs into the back of his neck.

He falls asleep still filled, wakes a couple of times, feeling Bitty slip out of him -- and back in again, one time stiffening up inside him, rocking slow and easy until they both spill. Every time he wakes, Bitty's hips are rolling against him. He doesn't know how many times they've fucked. He thinks he's probably come in his sleep a couple of times, hazy and distant, filled and warm. 

He half wakes up when Bitty pulls out and kisses his shoulder. "Early practice," he says quietly, apologetically. "I'll be back by 7, okay? You're welcome to stay or--"

"N'vr moving 'gain," he mumbles, and Bitty kisses him on the mouth. Bitty still tastes of alcohol, which is probably better than morning breath though he can't swear to that. "All right, then. I'll see you later."

Kent squints his eyes open, watching Bitty walk away. A door opens and shuts, light blazing through the cracks, and he winces, closes his eyes, and drifts again. At some point he hears a shower running. He smiles into the soft pillows, and wriggles in the soft sheets. The bed is deliciously warm and he's feeling deliciously used up and worn out. He is going to feel their fuck for days. He slides back towards sleep to the sound of someone humming under the sound of the shower, and Halo follows him into his dreams. He doesn't really notice the quiet when the shower cuts out. He hears a door, quiet footsteps and assumes it's Bitty.

"Hey darlin'," he murmurs. "Y'up for just one more?" He is jolted clear out of his pleasant lethargy by Jack's voice.

"Crisse. You *reek*, Parse." Kent jerks up, wild-eyed, and Jack sits hard on the bed, yanks the covers down, and plants a hard hand in the small of his back pinning him to the bed.

"Zimms?" he asks, nervously, and when he sneaks a glance, Jack is scowling at him from under those shadowed, sad eyes. 

"You're such a horndog," Jack says, half smiling at him. 

Relief floods Kent. 

"Jack, I--"

"He's a hell of a fuck, isn't he?" Jack says mildly. He twists around a little, glancing down Kent's back. "Crisse. How out of it were you?"

"Whaa--?" Kent's question turns into a yelp as Jack reaches long cool fingers between Kent's ass cheeks and tugs free a used condom hanging half out of him. He hadn't even realised that it was there. "Oh god." His face burns with humiliated arousal but he can't look away as Jack ties it off precisely, and flips it into the waste basket. 

"What are you doing, Kent?" he asks, voice cool.

"Screwing my life up," he snipes back. Jack puts a hand back on Kent's back, and sighs.

"Kenny--" He stops him. "Just don't."

"I'm sorry?" he says in a small voice.

"What for?" Jack asks him flatly, his eyes as hard as his hand on Kent's back, and Kent winces. 

"Yeah. I guess I deserved that. For trying to -- I'm sorry."

Jack's hand tightens on him for a second, and then, "Yeah, I -- it's not all on you." he says, very low.

Kent closes his eyes. There are so many things they should say to each other, and instead he twists over, leans up and kisses him again. It's different to last night. For one, Jack kisses him back and doesn't shove him away. Instead he rolls him into the middle of the bed, follows him, pushing Kent's thighs apart, and Kent whines, he's wet and sore and Jack's fingers go in so easy. They're both pushing, shoving at Jack's sweats, and a second later, Jack's sliding in, filling him up, and distantly Kent thinks 'at last' and 'shit no condom' but mostly, "Yeah, yeah, god, please." 

Jack hums, and bites into the back of Kent's neck. His hands are on Kent's hips, and if he doesn't have Bitty's girth he sure as hell still has the touch that drove Kent wild five years before. If anything, it's even better, his body heavy on Kent's back, keeping him pinned under powerful thighs and hot thrusts driven by that perfect ass, and Kent is wailing as Jack drives him higher and higher, until it all stops, Kent ratcheted so high that he shoves backwards, "Don't stop, why are you stopping, *Jack*,"

"In my bed, Jack?" Bitty says, and Kent feels like he's been doused in cold water, every hair on his body standing up in shock. Christ. How did he *forget* he was in someone else's bed? He shoves up, tries to push Jack off, but Jack isn't going anywhere, wedged deep in his ass. 

Bitty sits on the bed beside them, grips Kent's chin. "You want this?"

Jack circles his hips, and Kent whines breathlessly, can't think of any words at all that aren't begging for them both.

Worse, he's saying it out loud. Babbling "Yes," and "More, please," and "Jack, Bitty, *please*".

Jack kisses the back of his neck. "You really did a number on his ass, Bits. He's so loose, I'm not even sure I'm in half the time," he says casually, and Bitty grins. 

"I know. He takes it so well, I couldn't resist. You do, pet, you really do," he adds, to Kent. Kent shakes. 

"Seems like he can't resist either," Jack says, deadpan, and Kent laughs breathlessly. That's the Jack he -- knew. Bitty hums, and Kent feels a cool touch on his stretched hole, playing with his rim, slipping in, just a little, rubbing around where Jack is lodged in him. It hits him like a blazing slapshot, what he wants.

"Both," he manages. "Bits, both. Please?"

Bitty brushes his hair back from his forehead, plays with the cowlick that Kent can't ever get to lie flat. He tried cutting it off once and looked like a hedgehog for a month as it grew back in.

"You want us both?"

"Yeah."

"Mouth and ass--" Bitty starts, wilfully misunderstanding, and Kent shakes his head. Jack is laughing behind him, he can feel it, he's such a dick. And then Jack wraps his arms around Kent, and rolls them both until Jack's on his back and Kent is lying on his chest, still full. 

"In my ass. Both of you in, Bits, please--" he repeats, and swallows. 

Jack lifts his hips and Kent moans, splayed, displayed, and impaled, his legs falling wide open. "Yeah, yes, please, god--"

"Well. Invitation as sweet as that, it'd be rude to leave you hanging?" Bitty says. It almost sounds sarcastic, but he's smiling at Kent. He leans forwards and for a moment Kent thinks he's going to kiss Jack over Kent's shoulder, but he doesn't, he kisses Kent, and it's just as good as it was the night before when they were both drunk and angry and hate fucking each other because they couldn't have Jack Zimmermann. 

"Give me a moment, sweetheart." And then, "I have no idea where I put the lube last night." Jack wordlessly points at the floor, and Bitty laughs nervously. "You sure I can't tempt you, Mr Zimmermann?" 

"You heard Kenny," he says. Kent twists his head and brushes a kiss on Jack's jaw, and Jack wriggles, drags a pillow under his shoulder, and then kissing him is much easier. Much easier. He doesn't entirely register Bitty moving until cold lube is slicked over the root of Jack's dick and Kent's wet hole. He jerks his legs up a little, purely instinctively. "Cold!" he squeaks, and Jack laughs. 

"Got myself a pair of soft southerners," he teases, and rolls his hips up hard. Kent has no leverage at all like this, and slides further on.

"Who're you calling a southerner," Kent protests, as Bitty says, "Who're you calling soft?" He lifts his erection with one lube slick hand, and Jack and Kent both snort with laughter.

Jack keeps laughing, and each chuckle moves him in Kent, and Kent chokes off a helpless sound, desperately tries not to come. The air is heavy with sex, and Kent likes this, the newly familiar smell of Bitty, and the old, welcome smell of Jack – something he had lost all hope to ever have in his bed again.

"You ready?" Bitty says, and Kent nods. Jack lifts his knees, shoving Kent's thighs even wider apart. Bitty kneels between their opened legs, sinks a wet finger into Kent, whose overtaxed muscles offer no resistance at all. Bitty carefully adds a second, and then a third, slipping slow and careful along Jack's dick, rubbing slowly between Jack and Kent, watching both of them lose themselves in the touches. Jack's arms are solid around Kent, and Kent loops an arm back around Jack's neck, and they're kissing again. Kent barely notices when Bitty pulls his fingers out. 

He notices when he lines his dick up, pushes Jack's down and sinks into the space that makes.

Kent wails. It's so much, too much, and not fucking enough. He is rolling his hips between the two of them, he can see the tension in Bitty, feel it in Jack, and he wants them to roll with him, to move soft and fluid and like steel, all power and heat, lifting him, using him. Bitty meets his eyes, and he wants, wants everything that they will give. He can see the look in Bitty's dark eyes as he fucks in next to Jack, is terribly afraid that he knows that look is more than given back in Jack's blue eyes, and he wishes he wasn't there, and is glad he is even if it pinches his heart to be in the middle and nowhere at all.

"Hey. Where'd you go, Kenny?" It's Jack's name for him -- but Bitty's voice. Bitty lifts Kent's face up to his, ridiculously tender and kisses him sweetly. There's no battle at all, and he doesn't see how it's even possible to be here, soft and sweet and tender. He knows he only really wanted Bitty because he couldn't have Jack -- because he thought Bitty was the same, but he's not, he's not, he's watching Kent and splitting him open with soft words that peel him open, and Kent gulps, chokes, and comes silently, wrapped tightly between them.

Bitty's face contorts, giving way as Kent tightens ruthlessly in orgasm, and Kent wants to laugh, it's perfect, perfect, unexpected and ridiculous and impossible and just --perfect. It lacks only one -- and even as the thought coalesces, Jack arches under him, comes with them. Kent feels it in the hard jerks of his hips, and more, in the way his whole body softens and molds itself around them. He knows this moment of old, the way his Jack would turn cuddly and tender, his words heavily accented, as though staying in English was a struggle. He loved this Jack.

Lips touch his mouth in a soft, sucking kiss, teeth tugging gently at his lower lip, nibbling along the line of his mouth. Bitty presses more kisses over his face, his cheeks and jaw, the tip of his nose and gently, warmly, on his forehead. Behind him, he hears Jack's whispered, "Bits..." and they are kissing, but Bitty has a hand on Kent's face, callused thumb stroking over the soft swell of his cheek, and Jack's stroking a broad hand over his chest, and somehow, it's good, it's all right, even if this is the only time, Kent is -- 

Kent is happy.


End file.
